


You Are My Sunshine

by everyones_favorite_idiot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Everyone ships Stony, Fluff, M/M, Songfic, Tragedy, well sorta a songfic i guess it doesnt really count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyones_favorite_idiot/pseuds/everyones_favorite_idiot
Summary: Please don't take my sunshine away...Prompt: I'll tell you at the end its a surprise hehe
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Kudos: 19





	You Are My Sunshine

_ You are my sunshine… _

“Good morning, Tony,” Steve said, beaming at the other Avenger.

Tony blinked sleepily, trying to clear his foggy brain. Sure, he’d been up 36 hours straight working on a new project, but Steve didn’t know that. “Good morning,” he muttered, making a beeline for the coffee machine. 

“We’re out of coffee,” Steve mentioned. 

“What do you mean, ‘out of coffee’? I bought a new box yesterday!”

“I may or may not have thrown it out while I was on my run this morning.” He smiled cheekily.

“What? Why?” Tony exclaimed. “I need that stuff! It’s my life force!” 

“I know.”

“So why’d you throw it out?”

“So you’d sleep.”

“But sleep is for the weak!” 

“Sleep… or the coffee maker gets it,” Steve threatened.

“Fine,” Tony groaned, shuffling to his bedroom. 

Tony, despite his overwhelming tiredness, soon found that he could not fall asleep. There was something so comforting about the fact that Steve cared about his well-being, even if it meant that his coffee would have to take the fall for it. It was something so small and insignificant, and yet Tony couldn’t get Steve’s face out of his head. 

_ Stop it, Tony! Just go to bed!  _

The logic that sleep is what Steve would want was the only thing that managed to convince his brain to shut down.

_ My only sunshine… _

The soft buzzing of Tony’s phone beside him woke him from his sleep. 

Glancing at his phone, he found that it was one in the afternoon. And Pepper was calling.  _ Wait… did I sleep through an entire day? _

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Tony. Where were you last night?”

“Huh?”

“We were supposed to go out to dinner last night. Where were you?”

“Oh, about that… uh… Steve made me sleep and I forgot to set an alarm. It’s entirely my fault. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Tony… that’s what you say every time…”

_ What do you mean, “every time”? How many times has this situation come up? Like twice? _

“Tony. This is the fourth time you’ve missed a date this month.”

“F-fourth time? Listen, Pep, I’ll make it up to you… I’ll do whatever I have to to make sure you’re happy.”

“No, you listen. I don’t think I’m happy in this relationship anymore.”

_ What…? _

“And something tells me you aren’t either.”

“I’m perfectly hap-”

“No, you aren’t, Tony. It isn’t the same anymore. Our relationship has lost the joy, the wonder, the intrigue. I think I’m losing touch with what it feels like to love, and it scares me.”

“I…”

“I know this will be hard, but maybe we should take a break for a while.”

“Wait, Pep, no! Pep, I love you!”

_ I’m sorry, Pepper…  _

Tony laid down on his bed dismally, swiping through photos on his phone. He was surprised by the sheer number of selfies he had in there, but besides all that, so many of the photos were of Pepper. 

Some were of her laughing, or smiling, or the two of them hugging or kissing or talking. They were all beautiful photos, taken at just the right moment. And Tony deleted them all. Every single one. 

He knew exactly what taking a break meant. He’d heard it before. Pepper wasn’t coming back, and there was no point in trying to cling on to the past.

_ I screwed up, yeah. And there are tear-stains on my cheeks, but so what? I can move on from this.  _

Another group of pictures of Pepper flashed before Tony’s eyes. He tried to swipe fast enough that he couldn’t fully take in all of her, but he had seen enough. 

They were older pictures, from perhaps a year or so before, and in every single one, Pepper had a joyful, pure smile on her face, one that never faltered and that showed true joy. Tony missed that.

_ But that’s not what I’m getting, dating her now. Pepper isn’t happy anymore. And an unhappy girl can give me no joy. _

Each and every Pepper picture was finally gone, although that couldn’t do much for the empty hole in Tony’s heart. He let out a little sigh. “I miss my coffee.”

_ You make me happy, when skies are gray… _

How long had Tony been staring at the ceiling? He didn’t know. He wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything. 

The door handle jiggled. “What do you want?” Tony grumbled. 

“Tony, where have you been? You’ve been in there for three days!”

“Go away, Steve. I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Tony, have you eaten anything at all?”

Tony didn’t respond.

“Tony!” 

“What? I have no food in here!”

“Why didn’t you come out to eat?”

“I don’t need food. I’m fine.”

The sound of cracking, splintering wood startled Tony out of his stupor. “Steve, what…?”

Steve had smashed straight through his door. “Here, take my muffin.”

“Why? I’m not hungry.” Tony’s stomach betrayed him, growling loudly. “Curse you, stomach,” Tony mumbled. 

Steve tossed his blueberry muffin towards Tony. “You did sleep, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Alright, now get up and do something.”

“Steve… do I have to?”

“Yes.” Steve grabbed Tony’s hand and dragged him off of the bed. “Do you really want to miss game night?”

After a game of Jenga, Steve pulled Tony aside. “I don’t know what has made you feel so upset, but whatever it is, I want you to know that I will be there for you.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About why you stayed cooped up in your room for three days straight refusing to eat or take care of yourself, staring at the ceiling listlessly and occasionally sobbing?”

“Hey, you made it sound a lot worse than it actually was.”

“If you won’t talk about it, I don’t blame you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to carry all of this weight by yourself, and any time you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Aww, you’re making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” Tony commented. 

“I can’t tell whether or not that’s sarcasm.”

“Good.”

_ You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you… _

“Hmm…” Nat thought to herself. “Oh, I know! We can play… truth or dare!” An evil smile crossed her face.

Tony shuddered. He didn’t like that look. Glancing at Steve, he saw that he also looked apprehensive. 

“I don't trust that look,” Bruce said. 

Natasha moved across the room and whispered something in his ear, something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s just a setup to get Steve and Tony together.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, and he smiled. “I see.”

Long story short, it didn’t work. 

“Tony, truth or dare?”

“Dare!”

“Kiss the person to your left.”

Tony turned to Steve, grabbed his hand, and kissed the back of it lightly.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant by kiss,” Bruce observed.

“She didn’t tell me where to kiss him,” Tony pointed out. 

“I think one could infer that you’re supposed to kiss him on the lips,” Bruce continued.

“Ridiculous! If that’s what Nat wanted, she could’ve said so!” Tony smirked at Nat, refusing to give in to what she wanted (and what Tony wanted, a little).

Bruce shrugged, and the game continued. 

Tony asked Clint, who then asked Steve. 

“Steve, truth or dare?”

“Truth?” 

“Alright, if you had to date one person in this room, who would you date and why?”

“Uh…” Steve glanced around the room nervously. “Nat, I guess, because she’s the only girl in the room?”

“Oh, come on, we all know you aren’t straight,” Clint persuaded.

Steve’s face reddened. “Y-yes I am!” He shifted uncomfortably. 

Natasha raised one eyebrow. “Sure you are,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice.

Steve shifted away from Nat, accidentally sliding closer to Tony, their sides pressing together. Tony made no move to shift away. Steve noticed Tony beside him and cringed away, shuffling back into his regular spot. 

Nat smiled, hiding a laugh. This only made Steve redden even further, and he seemed to shrink into himself. 

So Nat had succeeded in embarrassing Steve, sure, but the ship would not sail. Not yet.

“Tony, come here,” Natasha said, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him along.

“Looks like I have no choice,” Tony said, looking at Nat’s hand clamped around his arm.

Nat shoved him into the conference room, where Tony was surprised to find that the other Avengers, except for Steve, were gathered. Natasha sat down on one end of the table, and sat Tony down at the other. 

“What is this?” Tony asked, looking around at Clint, Bruce, Carol, and Thor seated around the table. 

“This is the Stony Assembly,” Natasha explained.

“What is the Stony Assembly?” Tony asked, giving Nat a look.

“Steve likes you, Tony, and you like him, but Steve doesn’t have the confidence to confess. So we want you to.” 

“Um, excuse me? What about Pepper?” Tony reminded them.

“You broke up with her a week ago, and now it’s time to move on,” Clint said.

“How did you know that?”

“He may or may not have been in your vents.” Carol smirked.

“Clint!” Tony screamed.

“What? They needed information, and I was the perfect person to get it!” 

Tony sighed.

“Just tell him how you feel,” Nat said.

“I am done talking to you.” Tony stalked out of the room, irritated. He didn’t need his friends meddling in his personal life. He’d confess on his own time, not because they had told him to. Besides, they had no proof that Steve even liked Tony. 

“Stupid Stony Assembly,” Tony grumbled. “Stupid Nat, and stupid feelings that won’t go away!” 

For some reason, though, Nat’s words kept rattling around his brain, reminding him throughout the next week that he needed to confess, to say something, anything, to start a relationship, or at least try. 

“Why are emotions so difficult?” Tony groaned. He had been trying to work on some new techy thing, but Steve, feelings, Nat, and a million other things seemed to have consumed all of his brain space. “Why. Is. This. So. Hard.” Tony exclaimed, banging his head against the table with every word. 

“Just confess already!” the ceiling screamed.

“Clint, get out of there. And disband your Stony Squad while you’re at it, because it’s never happening!”

“Stony Assembly!” Clint yelled back. “And have some self-confidence! What happened to your self-esteem?”

A loud bang signalled that Tony had left the room.

Tony stalked down the halls, fuming. He knew that everyone was right, and that he should just admit his feelings already, but, to be honest, it was terrifying. He just couldn’t believe everything that Nat had said about Steve liking him. 

_ I can’t do it… _

_ But what’s the worst that can happen? _

_ Embarrassment, failure, public humiliation, lowered self-esteem, the loss of a friend… the list goes on and on… _

_ Come on, Tony, have you no balls? Be a man, and admit your bisexuality to the world… and to your crush… _

Tony strutted forward, putting on a brave face and approaching Steve. He glanced around the room, which appeared to be empty.

_ I can do this, I can do this, I can do this… _

“Steve, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

_ I can’t do this… _

_ Panic mode, activate! Scream and run and flail around! Abort! Abort! _

“Uh, never mind.” Tony speed-walked away.

_ Please don’t take my sunshine away… _

And then it happened. 

The incident.

Time seemed to blur and fold and stretch around Tony until he didn’t know how long he had been laying there, how long he had let the tears pool in his eyes and run down his face and soak his pillow, how long he had felt so angry and sad and regretful all at once. It wasn’t the tragedy he was mad at, but his own stupidity for letting so many opportunities slip through his fingers.

Maybe they could’ve shared a kiss or a laugh, something, anything, that Tony would have as a sort of remembrance. 

Yet there was nothing. 

_ Because of my own stupidity… _

_ There will only ever be what-ifs and could-have-beens and regrets… _

A faint knock on his door startled him from his regrets.

_ Steve? _

The scenario was so familiar, Tony sobbing over something, no, someone, he loved and lost, and Steve came to swoop him off of his feet. Was it him again, coming to enchant him and love him and fill his heart with joy?

_ But it can’t be… _

_ Because Steve’s dead… _

_ Tony remembered, clear as day, what had happened. After all, it had haunted his dreams for the past few weeks, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Steve, bloodied and broken, on the ground.  _

_ Steve had said his goodbyes, climbing onto the ship that was supposed to take him to some mission he had been tasked with. Disarm a bomb, or something. _

_ He had said goodbye to Tony, and it felt awkward and as if something was missing. Tony had longed to stand on tiptoe, and let his fingers graze Steve’s face and cheeks and jaw, to hold him close and kiss him.  _

_ But he didn’t, of course.  _

_ Tony still remembered that feeling, still felt that ache of longing in his chest.  _

_ He remembered burying himself in his work to hide his anxieties. If Steve died, he had thought, then he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.  _

_ And then Nat was running down the hallway, pounding on every door, screaming and panicked because Steve was in trouble and they needed to hurry. _

_ Tony had stumbled out of his workshop, anxieties rattling around in his brain, as he put his armor on faster than ever before.  _

_ Too little, too late. _

_ Steve had managed to save every single civilian from the bomb that day. He had completed what he set out to do.  _

_ And then came the enemies, waves upon waves of them, filling the warehouse until there was no possible way out. The Avengers continuously smashed, beat, shot, pulverized, and sliced every single enemy, but not a single one of them cared about eliminating the others, just Steve. _

_ Steve was filled with slashes, gashes, and bullet holes, down on one knee and still fighting, still pushing through, still swinging his shield and punching and kicking despite his obvious limp and the bloody trail he had left behind, as every single enemy shot him over and over and over.  _

_ Finally, they left the building, slipping away into the shadows, and the other Avengers gave chase, but Tony couldn’t bear to leave Steve alone in his dying moments.  _

_ Tony had dropped down onto his knees in the pool of blood, conscious of how it clung to his armor, and pulled off his helmet.  _

_ Tony looked for Steve’s hand, so he could feel his touch once more before Steve died, but where was his hand in the mass of flesh, blood, and bone, nearly unidentifiable? Steve had been torn apart, long gashes gouging their way across him and bullets twisted into his muscles and bones so many times, any regular human would’ve died. _

_ But Steve was no regular human. He was Tony’s everything.  _

_ And then he was gone. _

The soft knocking on Tony’s door persisted.

“Go away,” Tony mumbled.

“No, Tony, open that door. I need to talk to you,” Nat’s voice said.

“Fine, come in, whatever,” Tony grunted.

The door opened, and then closed. “Steve knew just how dangerous that mission would be before he left. He was well aware of the chance that he wouldn’t make it back. So he left you this,” Nat placed something on the edge of Tony’s bed.

Blindly, Tony reached for it, roughly grabbing the object. He sat up, a bit awkwardly, to examine it closer. “Steve’s sketchbook…”

Every drawing was done with an expert hand, each pencil line delicately sketched out to create beautiful works of art. There were some of every Avenger, perfectly capturing every aspect of them. There was one of Nat fighting, one of the Avengers during game night as Thor toppled the Jenga tower, but so many of Tony. Of his face, his armor, his everything, from every angle. 

But the last picture was puzzling to Tony. It was of Steve’s room, his nightstand, the drawer open. And inside was a letter addressed to… Tony squinted… was that his name?

Tony stared at the picture some more, and then bolted out of the room, barreling into Steve’s. His room perfectly matched the drawing. Nothing had changed. Nothing was touched. The drawing was a carbon-copy of the bedroom. 

Gingerly, Tony opened the dresser drawer. There it was, the envelope, with Tony’s name written on it in careful letters. With trembling hands, Tony opened it, pulling out the paper inside.

_ Dear Tony, _

_ If you are reading this, I am gone. And, as much as I hate to admit it, maybe it’s for the better. I don’t want you to waste a single moment being upset or distraught or feeling sorry for yourself, because I volunteered for this willingly.  _

_ Yes, Tony, I volunteered for this mission because I knew that if somebody had to die, it might as well be me.  _

_ You all have lives to live, after all, and I have nobody. Please, Tony, for my sake and your own, keep on living.  _

_ But that’s not why I’m writing to you, Tony. In the hours before my death I came to the realization that I love you, although I couldn’t admit it, not even to myself. I know you don’t feel the same, but since I’m about to die anyway, there’s no use in keeping my feelings inside.  _

_ I’ll miss you, Tony, and I fear that this is our final goodbye. You don’t even know how much I’ll miss seeing your face or hearing your voice or brushing against you by mistake. Yet I find solace in the fact that someday, a long, long time from now, I will see you again.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Steve Rogers _

“Steve…” Tony’s voice broke, “Don’t you see?” Tears blurred his eyes, dripping down his face and smudging the black ink on the page, “You were my everything…”

_ And now you’re gone…  _

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Tragedy
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't updated in about a month, but here, take this thing!
> 
> Also, my discord: https://discord.gg/puF5MRY  
> It's pretty active and although it's small, it's fun! You can choose roles and do stuff but you have to verify that you're 12+ before you can access anything.


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